With the release of Casino Royale (Martin Campbell 2006), the Bond franchise has been effectively rebooted and the audience has been introduced to a darker and grittier Bond (Daniel Craig) who has just earned his 00 status. Bond’s first mission is to investigate Le Chiffre, a banker for terrorists, and this leads to their confrontation in a high stakes poker game in Montenegro. During this time, Bond engages in a love affair with Vesper Lynd who has been sent to oversee the money bankrolling Bond’s mission. The death of Lynd leads Bond into his next assignment in Quantum of Solace (Marc Forster 2008) where, fueled by anger at the betrayal of Lynd, he attempts to track down the mastermind behind Mr. White’s sinister organization.
Unlike Lynd, Judi Dench’s M is a constant figure in Bond’s life and her role offers an interesting contrast to the Bond Girl character. As a strong-willed matriarch, she provides a complex representation of female authority in a franchise that is known for emphasizing the sexuality of its female characters. Although she is older and occupies a position of power, her authority is challenged in Skyfall (Sam Mendes 2012) by Gareth Mallory, the new Chairman of the Intelligence and Security Committee. It is later revealed that the villain, Silva, has a personal vendetta against M and she is presented as a surrogate mother over whom Bond and Silva fight. M transitions from a secondary/supportive character in the earlier films into an important site of psychological and social conflict by Skyfall.
This chapter seeks to examine the roles and representations of women within the context of Bond’s origin story in the reboot trilogy and explore how the female body is defined in the new framework of the Bond franchise. I am most interested in exploring the intersection of age and gender. I will discuss how the representation of M, an aging woman, contrasts with the typical representation of the Bond Girl and how the introduction of Eve Moneypenny as an inexperienced agent who trades fieldwork for a desk job influences the perception of Dench’s M.
The Bond film universe taps into a prevalent theme within Western culture: the ongoing relationship between pleasure and violence through the objectification of the female body. The films have a 50-year history of spectacular staging that draws on a specific formula of espionage, technology and gadgetry, fast cars, memorable villains, and the protagonist Bond who is celebrated for his aggressive heterosexual masculinity and power. Bond women are instrumental to the momentum of the storyline. There are always multiple attractive female characters that tempt, support, and hinder Bond over the course of his missions. Steven Woodward argues that Bond’s relationships are central to the creation of meaning, because “both Bond and his adversary have been carefully maintained as symbols rather than individuals, symbols that take their meaning from their relationship with each other rather than from any iconic or indexical ground of truth” (174). Not only is Bond symbolic, but so too are the women who interact with him. They are always presented superficially with their position being a reflection of their physical attributes. Thus, women are often portrayed as disposable characters in the franchise.
In his discussion of sex and sexuality in the Bond films, Jeremy Black posits that Bond’s copulation with women functions as a tipping point in the narrative. It not only helps to guarantee the success of his missions but also works to validate his heroism by confirming his phallic masculinity (Black 109). However, Lisa Funnell makes an important distinction between the Bond Girl and other female characters:
The term Bond Girl refers to a particular female character type of the Bond film. She is a non-recurring character and lead female protagonist, central to the plot of the film and instrumental to the mission of James Bond. However, the defining feature of the Bond Girl is the strong, intimate, and intense relationship she builds with Bond. (“From English” 63)
Although Bond (sexually) interacts with a variety of women, both good and bad, only one can be considered the Bond Girl. The others can be subdivided into other categories such as the Bond Girl Villain, secondary women, Moneypenny, and M.
Attractive female characters are central to the formation of the Bond fantasy world where the Bond Girl is a pivotal figure in the narrative and the secondary women contribute to the overall
mise-en-scène of the film. In an unforgettable scene from
Dr. No (Terence Young 1962), the viewer is presented with an exotic island where Bond first glimpses Honey Ryder, the original Bond Girl played by Ursula Andress, rising out of the surf in a white bikini. Ryder asks Bond: “What are you doing here? Looking for shells?” Bond replies with: “No, I’m just looking.” Between the lingering camera on her body and the dialogue between Bond and Ryder, this scene epitomizes the role of the Bond Girl who functions as a mainstay of the series along with the attending issues of gender and power through “the gaze.” This iconic scene is replayed again in
Die Another Day (Lee Tamahori 2002), this time with Jinx emerging out of the water wearing a similarly styled orange bikini as a
homage to
Dr. No.
Laura Mulvey has notably explored the gaze and its significance in film studies. Mulvey draws on Freud’s reference to the infantile, in particular the notion of scopophilia (the pleasure one experiences by looking at other people’s bodies as erotic objects), and applies it to the pleasure of viewing a film. The darkness of the theater creates a voyeuristic viewing situation where one can look without being seen by the figures on the screen or the other viewers in the audience. Mulvey argues, “in their traditional exhibitionist role women are simultaneously looked at and displayed, with their appearance coded for strong visual and erotic impact so that they can be said to connote to-be-looked-at-ness” (“Visual” 837). This notion draws upon the way that film can both naturalize and manipulate through the gaze. For Mulvey, there is a “triple gaze” from the camera, the spectator, and the gaze between the characters within the film. In addition, narrative and editing work to reinforce an active male perspective as owner of the gaze. From that iconic moment on the beach, there is an overt nod to the gaze as an active and powerful form of exchange between Bond and the women he interacts with in the films. This interaction further reflects Mulvey’s notion of the gaze by the implied male perspective of the audience as they actively look along with Bond.
The casting of a female M is an interesting contrast to the Bond Girl and the stereotypical treatment of periphery females in the films. Dench was featured in GoldenEye (Martin Campbell 1995) and her character quickly makes a strong impression by asserting that she regards Bond as little more than a “relic of the Cold War.” As an older female in a powerful position, M is able to subvert the stereotypes associated with the “aging female” who is often considered “sick, sexless, uninvolved except for church work, and alone” (Payne and Whittington 488). Instead, M is presented as a competent professional woman who is the keeper of state secrets and holds the lives of many in her hands. She must make decisions that could potentially have major ramifications, not just for her agents, but for her country and its global position. The viewer does not question her ability to make the difficult decisions that are often at the expense of one of her agents. Through the characterization of Dench’s M, the franchise offers an alternative representation of female identity that is not subject to the “triple gaze.”
REVISIONING FEMALE/FEMININE CHARACTERS
In
Casino Royale, M must contend with a new and more corporeal Bond, who exudes a chaotic, carnal, and barely controllable presence. Colleen M. Tremonte and Linda Racioppi argue that it is through the “hypervisibility of Bond’s body—in motion, specularised, under threat […that] helps reinforce the role of masculinity in the international and gender orders” (185). Craig’s Bond has an edge that is still discernable when he is wearing his tuxedo. Instead of gadgetry he uses his fists and the sheer physicality of his body. And yet, he seems to defy many of the characteristics that have long defined the role. In one scene, his body is objectified as he rises out of the sea, using the iconography associated with the Bond Girl. This body is symbolic of a masculine ideal and a prelude to more successful action for the benefit of Britain. Lisa Funnell makes an interesting argument for Bond as a hybrid of both Bond and Bond Girl. She asserts that
Craig’s Bond [is] youthful, spectacular, and feminized relative to the gaze through the passive positioning of his exposed muscular body in scenes where he is disengaged from physical activity. Moreover, through intertextual referencing of renowned Bond Girl iconography, exemplified through Bond’s double emergence from the sea, Craig’s Bond is positioned as a visual spectacle and aligned with the Bond Girl character type rather than with his Bond predecessors in the filmic franchise. (“I Know” 456)
Character hybridity extends beyond Bond to Lynd, who is presented as a questionable ally. She does not easily fit within the past models of Bond Girls. She represents the British Treasury and as such has some control over Bond through the purse strings (“I’m the money”). Tremonte and Racioppi suggest that the women in Casino Royale, much like those who came before them in the franchise, “remain ‘out of place’ in relationship to the international security and gender orders and still need to be ‘put in place’ by Bond” (188).
Lynd is “out of place” because her allegiance is split between Bond and another man; as a result, she cannot entirely be considered a Bond Girl. She works as a double-agent for Quantum, a secret villainous organization, in order to secure the release of her lover, Yusef Kabira. As it turns out, Kabira is a member of Quantum who manipulates women with valuable intelligence connections. This renders Lynd more of a femme fatale than a devious villain or henchperson who willingly acts in service of the villain. As Elisabeth Bronfen astutely points out:
To focus on the femme fatale, of course, also means introducing the question of gender difference into a discussion of tragic sensibility, in the sense that, while she comes to acknowledge her responsibility for her fate, the hero she involves in her transgressive plot is characterized by the exact opposite attitude, namely, a desire to stave off knowledge of his own fallibility at all costs. (105)
At the end of
Casino Royale Bond resigns from the service to start a life with Lynd. During a phone call with M, he learns that the government money has not been returned and believes that Lynd has betrayed him. Bond tracks her down and engages in a dramatic gun fight with a group of armed men. During this encounter, Lynd becomes trapped in an elevator and ultimately makes the choice to not be saved by Bond; by drowning, Lynd takes personal responsibility for her betrayal of Bond and her country. As a
femme fatale-Bond Girl hybrid, Lynd’s suicide serves a key narrative purpose: it inspires Bond to recommit to his job as he channels his emotions towards attacking the next task at hand. Although Bond is clearly bitter towards Lynd, remarking that “the bitch is dead,” M serves as a voice of reason when she explains to Bond that Lynd “must have known she was going to her death.” It is M who recognizes Lynd’s sacrifice within her betrayal.
Much like Bond and the Bond Girl who are revisioned in the Craig era, M is also reconceptualized as a character. This is most interesting given the fact that Dench continues on in the role. In the Craig era, M has her authority undercut numerous times over the course of three films. Bond breaks into her home in Casino Royale and hacks into her personal computer in his quest to pursue his mission at all costs, despite her directives. M is also depicted on a few occasions in a more intimate space: she is presented in bed with a man who is presumably her husband, and another time is interrupted by the office as she readies for a bath. One could argue that these scenes work to humanize M, offering viewers the impression that she has a life beyond MI6; the Craig era, after all, presents the deepest and most earnest depictions of Bond. On the other hand, there has never been this level of personal revelation with her predecessors. The viewer’s knowledge of this figure of authority is through the leather-padded door with Moneypenny overseeing external access to this inner sanctum. The bath scene has long been a visual trope for representing the female nude in art and became especially popular in the nineteenth century as a subject that reflected modern life through the ordinary or mundane. It is also voyeuristic as it presents the subject at their most vulnerable and private. Moreover, bedrooms in Bond films are typically spaces where his seduction plays out. These intimate scenes focused on M are a reflection of the shifting power dynamics between age and gender, which culminate in Skyfall.
M as a figure of power is tenuous in the Craig era. This becomes explicit in
Skyfall when her credibility and ability to command MI6 comes under scrutiny. The theme of aging and power is played out on the bodies of M and Bond. The significance of these personal scenes is revealed by the way they contrast with Mallory’s backstory. Monneypenny defends Mallory to Bond by alluding to his past as something that makes him more than simply a bureaucrat. His past is not personal in the context of interior spaces and bodily relationships, but instead serves to reinforce his ability to be a credible leader. Moments like these also reference the direction that this reboot is moving towards: traditional gender roles. Much like Lynd, M is transformed into a tragic figure that has to die in order for Bond to reach his full potential as 007. This is a form of Othering that has an impact on establishing male identity and highlights the underlying fear of becoming Othered through age and loss of authority within the social structure. This is something that is highlighted in the “mothering” of M as her past (in the form of Silva) literally collides with the present (Bond) and she becomes the casualty—the body on which this is played out on. M is a complex figure that reflects the Bond Girl trope in that she and Bond share a close and emotional relationship; this is especially evident in
Skyfall where she becomes the locus of the power struggle between Bond and Silva. M’s fate highlights the instability of these various roles and their impact on her position as an older woman in power.
Skyfall becomes a collision of gender, her professional position, and the choices she has made and must make, along with the secrets she keeps.
“TAKE THE BLOODY SHOT!”
The opening of Skyfall thrusts the viewer in the midst of a dynamic chase scene that ultimately has Bond on top of a moving train, fighting against an opponent as he attempts to retrieve an important hard drive loaded with a list of covert agents. This sequence is intercut with scenes of another agent, Moneypenny, who is also in pursuit. M is monitoring from a control room in Britain and making decisions from a limited perspective based on Moneypenny’s reporting. The view switches between the dynamic space of action and the institutionalized space that M occupies. M’s command for Moneypenny to shoot even though it is not a clean shot leads to Bond’s “death” and the subsequent failure to secure the hard drive. It also sets into motion overarching themes focused on age, power, and the maternal figure.
In modern society power is enacted through the body. Michel Foucault argues that the way we understand our bodies is through a series of disciplinary practices that socially categorize bodies and place them in hierarchal distinctions. For Foucault, the body occupies a central place in the historical configuration of power, knowledge, and society. His analysis highlights the location of the body within a political field of power relations, and, in particular institutions, that seek to discipline the body and thus render it “docile” and ultimately productive and economically useful. What defines Foucault’s work is the focus on the socially constructed nature of the body as it is lived, and its malleability because of the power/knowledge relationship (Discipline 136). In their assessment of the construction of female politicians in the European media, Iñaki Garcia-Blanco and Karin Wahl-Jorgensen note:
The representation of women in the highest political offices is not only a matter of political equality but also relevant to the general pursuit of a more egalitarian society. The low presence of women in positions of political power demonstrates the persistence of patriarchal power, perpetuating the secondary political role to which women have traditionally been relegated. Despite significant gains made in recent decades, gender still remains an issue when it comes to standing for office or being appointed to official positions. (422)
Regardless of capability and positional gains within the societal hierarchy of power, the female is still connected to her gender in a way that the male is not. In Skyfall, M is confronted with a series of cyber invasions and the demolition of the MI6 headquarters that leads to a challenge of her authority by Mallory who is gunning for her position. Mallory admonishes: “Three months ago, you lost the computer drive containing the identity of almost every NATO agent embedded in terrorist organizations across the globe. A list which, in the eyes of our allies, never existed. So if you’ll forgive me, I think you know why you’re here.” Dench’s M radiates an offended dignity as she refuses to explain herself or apologize except when she absolutely must. In one instance when it is suggested that she should get out of the game she angrily replies, “Oh, to hell with dignity! I’ll leave when the job’s done!”
The dualist legacies of the past have been influential though limiting in the definition of the body. In her discussion of identity in the western imagination, Margrit Shildrick writes, “To be a self is above all to be distinguished from the other, to be ordered and discrete, secure within the well-defined boundaries of the body rather than actually being the body” (50). The body is always socially formed and located. What it is to be a man or woman is a social definition, since even physiology is mediated by culture. One could argue that the aging body is subject to its own kind of disciplined activity quite separate from other aspects of adulthood. Thus, to age successfully can become a full-time job central to one’s identity, and for the female, who is already often viewed through her body, the female becomes the embodiment of aging. As Susan Sontag has argued, there is a “double standard of aging,” where women suffer scorn and exclusion as they age, “a humiliating process of gradual sexual disqualification” (102). Richard Leppert discusses the importance of the gaze: “The sense of sight is a fundamental means by which human beings attempt both to explain and to gain control of the reality in which they find themselves” (16). The power inherent in sight impacts how one is perceived as viable in powerful positions or weak and unproductive. M is typically presented in a neutral palette. There is even less variation in Skyfall when she is dressed in either black or grey. The most saturated color near her is in the form of the kitschy porcelain English Bulldog draped in a brightly painted Union Jack flag. This costuming washes her out, emphasizes her age, and makes her appear overly tried and burdened by the crisis at hand. It contributes to the impression that M’s ability to manage and maintain secrets and secure Britain’s safety has been compromised.
In Skyfall, Bond makes his way back into the fold of MI6 when he hears about the attacks on the news. He reveals himself to M by breaking into her home yet again. “Where the hell have you been?” she barks out as a haggard looking Bond sarcastically replies “enjoying death.” There is an undercurrent of tension between the two that seems to speak volumes. Bond is a returning ghost from the past and this will be referenced many times throughout the film. Bond, we are told, is past his prime—he cannot shoot straight, he’s hooked on pills and booze, and he looks weak and haggard. During a word association test at MI6 the doctor says “M” and Bond quickly replies “Bitch.” Herein lies another major theme within the film: the mother/son relationship between M and Bond. This becomes more complicated as we learn that the reason for the attacks on MI6 is because of a past 00 agent who also has a problematic relationship with M and is acting out feelings of abandonment and vengeance.
When Bond finally meets Silva, it is at the expense of Severine. Bond’s initial interaction with her at the club reveals her entanglement as a sex slave who is now indebted to Silva of whom she is very afraid. He nevertheless makes a promise to assist her for her help in leading him to Silva. Bond’s use of her body by slinking into her bathroom while she is taking a shower and seducing her (a nod to the sexualized horror of the shower scene in Hitchcock’s 1960 film Psycho) does not really serve any narrative purpose as he is already on the boat making its way towards his adversary. She is a disposable female much like Solange in Casino Royale; they are simply a means to an end in Bond’s missions. In both cases, Bond’s reaction to their deaths indicates a detachment that is further emphasized by his lover Lynd, who suggests that Bond sees women as “disposable pleasures rather than meaningful pursuits,” which would render him a “cold-hearted bastard.”
Silva takes great pleasure in taunting Bond, much like he has been doing with M and MI6. During their initial meeting, Silva strokes Bond’s upper thigh as he tells a story about rats. He taunts Bond by stating, “She sent you after me, knowing you’re not ready, knowing you would likely die. Mommy was very bad.” In another statement he boasts that he was a better agent than Bond and when Bond responds “Are you sure this is about M?” Silva snaps back that “it is about her, and you and me. We are the last two rats.” The dynamic that Silva sets up between himself and Bond is of competitive brothers vying for their mother’s attention and affection. The actual and implied violence within the film serves as a signifier of masculinity—Bond’s in particular—because Silva is presented to us as deranged, broken, effeminate, and ultimately second best (this is even referenced in his name Silva/Silver). Silva’s masculinity is questionable and becomes a way for Bond’s character to put to rest the rising doubts that he (like M) was simply an embodiment of a traditional model of international espionage; one that is premised on national borders and reflects white-Western entitlement through excessive consumption of alcohol and women. Underpinning the relationship between Bond and Silva is the contrast between whole vs. broken and hero vs. monster. For Rosi Braidotti, “the monster is the bodily incarnation of difference from the basic human norm; it is deviant, an a-nomaly; it is abnormal” (62). Violence serves as a signifier of masculinity and is also integral to the formation of social identity. Violence and the ability to be violent has been one of the main ways that the male and masculinity is differentiated from the female and her femininity. As René Girard astutely puts it, “only violence can put an end to violence, and that is why violence is self-propagating. Everyone wants to strike the last blow, and reprisal can thus follow reprisal without any true conclusion ever being reached” (26).
Steven Woodward identifies the presence of a female M as “unsettling the Oedipal dynamics of the narratives,” which for Bond means “trouble orienting himself” (184); this is played out between the “brothers” and through the institution of MI6. The female defined and limited by her reproductive function is not a new concept. Society has historically viewed the female body in relation to patriarchal ideology. Where she was once valued for her reproductive ability she is now devalued as a product. This reflects the impact of consumerism and social constructions as applied to the body. Although M is past her reproductive prime she is reduced to a reference of Mother when she becomes the pawn between Bond and Silva.
Yet, it is through the damaged body of Silva, the aging body of M, and the road-weary body of Bond that psychological and social conflicts are played out. Bond fails to protect M, much like he fails to protect Lynd in Casino Royale. Lynd chooses not to be rescued by Bond, and his dramatic attempt to protect M at the decrepit ancestral home on barren land in Scotland is laughable at best. Silva seems to have a never ending supply of henchmen and guns to come after them, while their arsenal consists of homemade bombs and other diversionary tactics found around his mostly empty home. Are we to be convinced that this is the best course of action, given Bond’s prowess and previous interactions with villains along with his remarkable skill for breaking into M’s home? Silva has been one step ahead of M, Bond, and the whole agency from the beginning. He has infiltrated and attacked MI6 from within. His deformity and dexterity place him as the Other and as such he enjoys a certain level of freedom. Silva represents a destabilizing force that disrupts the status quo only for it to be firmly re-established again. Bond provides the climactic release of re-establishing the status quo by taking the battle against Silva over M (who is experiencing a profoundly professional Othering of her power and position) to the desolate outer world of Scotland. Bond’s battle is a literal enactment of Freud’s oedipal complex as it has shifted between “brothers.” M becomes a sacrifice that allows Bond to re-establish his masculine prowess within the established framework of MI6.
The reboot of Bond began with a number of complex and multi-dimensional characters that do not easily fit into the previous templates of Bond, the Bond Girl, Moneypenny, and M. The body is a presence that can be symbolic in many ways, and for M it ultimately becomes a signal of limitation and vulnerability, and her demise is directly related to Bond and his power struggle with Silva. While M is not completely disempowered, she is perceived as different (Other) and thus a hindrance because of her so-called “advanced” age. Ultimately Skyfall is not a reboot but instead takes us full circle back to the Bond of the past. The audience is left with a new and mysterious location of MI6 where Mallory is the new (male) M, who is ensconced behind a leather padded and studded door, and Moneypenny has given up fieldwork to take over as his secretary and occupy a space that is on the periphery of power while re-establishing the precedent for flirtatious taunts with Bond. Bond nostalgia is not just a reference or an echo within the film, it is the standard from which Bond is reincarnated at the expense of the female M. M now stands for male.